Falcon and wolf 12

 

Chapter 12

 

Wolf made his way back to the town of Lee’s Drift and told Jim Carstairs about a man called Richardson who was bought and sold by bandits.

Carstairs grimaced.

“That’ll be High Fork,” he said. “Richardson got wed a little over a year ago, to a lovely young wife; and their baby came early when she was thrown from her horse, which reared at a rattle-snake. The baby died, and Mrs. Richardson hasn’t been right since. Richardson has had her see a heap of doctors, and I’m guessing it cost him a packet. If he was offered money just to avoid recognising the Magree gang, I can see why he was tempted.”

Wolf sighed.

“I guess I’d feel the same if it was Miss Kalyna Levchenko,” he said. “I guess Luke will understand; I imagine they bought up his debts.”

“More than likely,” said Carstairs. “I went out to see Luke, and he struck silver.”

“Son of a gun,” said Wolf. “That’s the sort of thing that happens to Luke.”

“I’m sending out an old prospector to help him with it,” said Carstairs. “You able to escort him?”

“Don’t see why not,” said Wolf. “Might as well exploit it while there’s ore there, and someone to take care of the place won’t go amiss.”

“He’s fleeing his married daughter.”

Wolf chuckled.

“I’ve heard similar stories before,” he said.

 

 

Old Joe was a spry old gentleman despite a game leg, and was very grateful for someplace to go which wasn’t with his Matilda.

“Good woman, my daughter, but sometimes the Good Lord takes all that goodness and makes sure to add a dose of sanctimony to remind people that nobody’s perfect,” he said, getting out a pipe.  “Ahhh, the chance to have a smoke in peace without, ‘Daddy! Can’t you give up that dirty habit? Be careful not to drop ash on the carpet, can’t you go and smoke outside if you must make a stink with that thing?’ and a fellow can’t enjoy a smoke when he’s made to feel guilty about it.”

“Some women are all temperance and anti-pleasure,” agreed Wolf.

“That’s Matty,” said Joe. “Great Snakes! I feel like I’ve just been let out of the hoosegow, and I want to do something Matty would disapprove of.”

Wolf handed him a hip flask.

“It’s good whisky,” he said.

Joe took a long pull, blinked, and wiped his moustache.

“Now, that’s a good whisky,” he said.

“My friend, Luke, won’t drink anything else,” said Wolf.

“Well, now!  I’m going to savour the taste of that, and throw away the peppermints I got to fool her,” said Joe.

“Oh, let me have them for my horse,” said Wolf. “I let him have one as a treat at times.”

“You’re welcome,” said Joe, handing over a paper poke of sweeties.

He needed a bit of help to get up the waterfall, and then he laughed.

“Now you know you’re free,” said Wolf.

“Oh, hell, yes!” said Joe. “Tarnation! Dammit! Hell! Dadburnit! Gosh Gollikins! Oh, that feels good!”

 

 

Luke was delighted to see Wolf with the old man.

“I made you a rocking chair, mister,” he said.

“Joe; the name’s Joe,” said the old man. “And what makes you think I’m old enough to need a rocking chair?”

“Well, I need it when I’ve been cutting stone,” said Luke. “Jim Carstairs pointed out that a man needs a comfortable chair come winter. Sitting on a bed ain’t the same, but I’ve pegged out one double bed and three bunks, which ought to make any company comfortable, and I dug another pit under the floor for the silver. I don’t know how to smelt it, but I’ve got bandits to catch.”

“What the sheriff brought was almost pure,” said Joe. “What a strike!”

“Well, you enjoy yourself with it,” said Luke. “Jim filed the claim in the name of you, me, and Wolf, and our heirs and successors, though I imagine it’ll be worked out by the time Wolf and I have heirs and successors. I’ve been tossing out the greyish yellowish stuff; I don’t think I has any use.”[1]

“Well, mebbe I’ll make my will leaving my share between you,” said Joe. “I just want the solitude and a bit of freedom, but a man has to work, or he gets antsy.”

“I hear you, Joe,” said Luke. “I could have camped up here, with a tent, maybe put an outer layer over it to keep it warmer, but what do I do? I build a house.”

“A good house, too,” said Joe, appreciatively. “I wager I’ll be warmer over the winter here even than in town, with Maggie’s board house.”

“Hell, yes,” said Luke. “There’s a store of logs in the stables, but you’ll need to get in hay and oats and bran for your horse. I told Jim Carstairs; he said he’d provision you good and proper.”

“I can’t pay for that,” said Jim.

“Well, now, why don’t we call it your pay for the digging over the winter?” said Luke. “You’re putting in the work so it’s only fair that Wolf and I should see you provisioned.”

“Dang me, that’s so good a deal, I’m waiting for the catch,” said Joe.

“Putting up with us if we crash in on you,” said Luke. “I’ve done well, I have money; but I like catching bad guys. It’s worth it to me to have a caretaker in houses scattered about the place.”

“Well, when you put it that way, can’t complain,” said Joe.

 

Wolf told Luke everything he had learned.

“And Carstairs asked this Mortensen to come to town? Well, it’s worth asking,” said Luke.

“He probably won’t agree, but if he’s wounded, he won’t take them down alone,” said Wolf. “It depends what sort of person he is.”

 

Jim Carstairs brought several pack mules up with provisions for Joe.

“I had a wire from Mortensen; he will be in town tomorrow,” he said.

“We’ll come back with you when we’ve stored Joe’s goods, and be there when he arrives,” said Luke. “I noticed the saloon has a small hotel.”

“Yes, it’s nothing fancy, but it’s comfortable enough, and the food’s no worse than anywhere else, even if not a patch on your trout chowder,” said Carstairs.

Wolf sniggered.

“Not many people can cook like Luke,” he said.

“I love my stomach,” said Luke. “I like to do nice things for it. And Ma made sure us boys could sew and cook, and Da made sure the girls could shoot, fell a tree, and hunt.”

“All good skills,” said Carstairs. “You got sisters, then? Any fancy marrying a law man?”

“Well, Jim; one of them’s married, the next is stalking Wolf, here, and the next two are still at school,” said Luke.

“Ah, well,” said Carstairs.

 

 

The bounty-hunter named Mortensen stepped into the saloon, and stood, assimilating the atmosphere. He was not a big man, and he was dapper, but he looked what he was; a dangerous man.

There was a man with the sheriff’s badge, and two men who also looked dangerous. One was a Cherokee; the other could have had Indian ancestry, but Mortensen did not think he did. They both regarded him, and the sling in which he wore his arm.

He went over to the sheriff.

“I came,” he said.

“The question is, will you split seventeen thousand three ways, or make life hard?” said the Cherokee.

Mortensen sat down.

“What’s the whisky like here?” he asked.

“Tolerable,” said the other dangerous man. “Only Irish, but better than rot-gut.” He signalled to the barkeeper.

“Well, then, perhaps we can discuss this,” said Mortensen. “I seen you, Injun, in High Fork.”

“Name’s Wolf. My friend’s Luke. I was scouting.”

“I saw Scarface; we exchanged shots.”

“Yes, I listened to him reporting back to Barney Magree’s hideout,” said Wolf.

Whisky arrived and Mortensen savoured the aroma.

“If you know where the hideout is, why are you cutting me in?”

“Professional courtesy,” said Luke. “And I’d rather be working with you than in rivalry.”

Mortensen considered.

“Makes me the gainer, with a damaged wing,” he said.

“But you’re the known quantity,” said Luke. “Now, here’s what I suggest we do.”

He spoke quietly but confidently for half an hour, and they worked their way through a bottle of whisky.

 

oOoOo

 

Sheriff Richardson did not share a bed with his wife at the moment; since she had been ill, she slept on a sofa in her pretty parlour. He was not proud of this, but that was how life was.

However, he awoke with the sudden feeling that he wasn’t alone.

“Betty?” he said.

“No, but not an enemy… not necessarily,” said a light, amused voice in the darkness.

Richardson sat up, and fumbled for his colt, in its holster hung on the bed post.

The holster was empty.

“I thought you might be jumpy, so I removed it,” said the voice.

There as a flare of a match, and his candle lit; and a handsome young man with a dark moustache handed his gun back to him.

Richardson gaped.

“A token of good will,” said Luke. “Now, then, Sheriff, I’m assuming that Magree’s gang bought up the medical bills to hold over you, rather than that you willingly embraced a path helping owlhoots.”

“Well, if you know about it, what’s to say?” said Richardson, bitterly.

“Would you  like to see them get what’s coming to them?”

“Of course; but they’d testify against me in revenge,” said Richardson. “And what’s my Betty going to do then?”

“Well, now, just supposing this was a plot you cooked up with Jim Carstairs and some bounty hunters, just to sucker the Magree gang into a trap,” said Luke. “And all of us willing to swear to it, knowing that a man’s bound to do what he can for his woman….”

“A way out of this nightmare trap?” gasped Richardson.

“And if you’ll listen to me, I’ve got advice for how to help your wife, too,” said Luke.

“I’ll listen to any advice,” said Richardson.

“Well, you have to accept that from her point of view she lost a child,” said Luke. “And don’t say, ‘Yes, I know, but it was never a real child’ because to her, it was. A child who moved inside her; who responded to her voice, and your voice. Remember that; no future child will ever replace that baby for her. And if you never named the baby, I wager she did; and you should ask her what baby was called. But she’s likely afraid to go through the pain again, for nothing, again. Especially if she thinks you think she can ‘replace’ what she lost. But what you need to do is to tell her that nothing can replace your baby, but there are orphans who can’t have their parents replaced. Tell her that you know she’d be a wonderful mother, and if she’s worried she can’t have children of her own, you can give a good life to another child.”

“Well, what if we don’t know where a child if from?”

“It’s how you raise a child that counts, not who gave him or her life,” said Luke. “All children are innocents until you try to make them something else.”

“And if she says, ‘no?’”

“You’ve planted the idea. It may grow. Or, she may decide she wants another child. What she needs now isn’t darkened rooms and nothing to do all day but brood.  What she needs is an interest. And she’d do best if you ask her help.”

“And what can she do to help me?”

“Well, you can tell her you have your suspicions about a lady who is visiting, who you think is a crook,” said Luke. “And you want her to catch out that lady as being no lady.”

“And who’s that?” asked Richardson.

“Me,” said Luke. “I’m planning on infiltrating the Magree gang as Baby-Face Bellamy; I’ve been setting up the persona.  Having taken Angel-Face and Flinty.”  He gave Richardson a very straight look. “I’m putting my life in your hands in believing that you aren’t truly crooked,” he said. 

“I won’t betray you,” said Richardson. “It breaks my heart to see them owlhoots in town. Say, how do you know so much about women?”

“I have sisters; and I actually talk to bar girls as well,” said Luke. “Well, you set your wife on me, if she will, and then you can have a heart-to-heart talk with her when she’s chirked up some for doing something,” said Luke. “I need you to catch me out, so I can flee.”

“Well, I’m damned,” said Richardson.

“No, you ain’t; and that’s why I’m here talking to you in the middle of the night, not taking you down in broad daylight,” said Luke.

He blew out the candle; and Richardson, on lighting it again, found that his visitor had gone.

 

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[1] The US government had to pay good money to buy up the plot a hundred years later to mine uranium from it, as Jim Carstairs logged the claim to go clear through the mountain.